That Time of Year

From t-ball through seventh grade, Clare played baseball; June marked what would be the middle of her season.  Then, in eighth grade she made the switch to softball.  A year later, June became the month when she switched from high school ball to travel ball.  Clare always liked varsity more than travel.  Too much summertime drama, I think.

On varsity, Clare always knew where she stood; she might not have liked it, but she knew.  Coach Euks loved her bat, so she never had to worry about starting, somewhere.  It might be left field, dh or second base, but Clare could always expect to be in the lineup.  By junior year, she laid claim to second base and never let go, of that and batting third in the order.

In contrast, travel lacked rhyme and reason, in large part because Clare was never anybody’s favorite.  The first two years on the Blazers, the coaches were affiliated with schools other than Morton, so that made my daughter something of an outlier.  The third year, the coaches were just plain nuts, to the point that one of them told Clare she’d never hit in college, this after she’d hit five homeruns in one tournament.  Talk about raining on a kid’s parade.  So, yeah, she liked her time on varsity more.

Clare knew one of the baseball players at Morton; he was a year ahead.  The White Sox drafted him his senior year, but he didn’t sign; then the Angels drafted him the next year, and he did.  My daughter has a Ted-Williams like disdain for pitchers, but in this case I think she may have lived vicariously through her ex-classmate.  She went off to play in college while he went to ply his craft in the Angels’ system.

They each played their sport four more years, Clare ending up with more records.  Would she have traded places with her friend?  Oh, in a heartbeat, as long as she could’ve switched to hitting.